If It's Love
by LuciusAndNarcissa
Summary: Draco has seen the connection between soulmates marked with one another's patronus through his parents. He's afraid he won't know that love until fifth year, when the image of an otter appears on his side. Hermione isn't certain whether she's more surprised by her strange new connection with Draco or by the truth of her heritage. [AU sequel to Hey, Soul Sister. Pureblood!Hermione]
1. Chapter One

**A/N: I started my fic _Hey, Soul Sister_ almost exactly a year ago, and now that my friend and I are working on it heavily, we've been trying to find a way to incorporate Draco into this splinter universe. The fic will have another sequel on my page eventually, but this is one interpretation of how things could go when soulmate marks show up without permission and don't care who they connect. We're new to the Dramione fleet, so we'd love to hear what you think as it goes. (We do not own the title, it's from the Train song. Trying to keep the theme going.) x**

* * *

Chapter One

 _Soulmates. I will never understand._

Draco sought to keep his expression blank as he watched his parents from the doorway of his father's study. They were muttering to one another, and he couldn't hear what either was saying, but he could see the smiles on their lips and the kisses each pressed to the other's cheek or neck now and then between quiet laughs. He'd been around the parents of his friends enough to know that this behavior was far more common among those who had been matched with a soulmate than those who had married for other reasons, whether those were related to money, power, or something else entirely.

He'd been told since birth that his parents had been fortunate enough to find a kind of love that transcended the typical and touched instead on a very ancient kind of magic connecting them at the soul level. He'd also been assured that he would one day find someone with whom he connected so strongly, so passionately, that he couldn't continue to go on alone.

 _And yet, here we are._

Draco cleared his throat, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. His parents immediately pulled apart, Narcissa sliding off the arm of Lucius's chair and smoothing her skirt into alignment as she glanced down at the floor. Her long blond hair obscured her face partially, but it didn't entirely conceal the blush that had spread like wildfire over her pale skin. Lucius's shift in position was more subtle; he straightened his posture and leaned back in his chair as he reached for the glass of amber liquid sitting on the desk in front of him.

"Yes, Draco?" he asked, glancing up at his son as he took a drink from the glass.

"Are we going to leave?"

Draco fought to keep any traces of agitation from his voice. He knew rationally that he couldn't be irritated with his parents for being happy, but at the same time, he wished they would refrain from showing it when he could potentially enter the room. They'd always been highly reserved about demonstrations of affection when in public or when hosting company, but Draco had caught them in a number of compromising situations when they must've believed he wouldn't be wandering about Malfoy Manor.

"Yes, as soon as you're ready," said his father with a nod.

"Have been for about an hour."

"I'll go and get our cloaks," said Narcissa, giving her husband's shoulder a squeeze before making her way out from behind the desk and toward the doorway. She smiled at Draco as she passed, though he could see the blush hadn't yet left her cheeks. She'd always seemed highly embarrassed when Draco had happened to witness more intimate moments between her and Lucius, and Draco wondered why each of his parents handled the situation so differently, though he didn't plan to ask.

When his mother had gone, he looked to his father once again.

"Are you prepared for this term?" asked Lucius.

"More so than the last."

Lucius glanced at the glass in his hand. Draco knew his father was likely recalling the disastrous way the previous year at Hogwarts had concluded—after all, who could forget the resurrection of the Dark Lord? Even though he hadn't been there, Draco had heard enough about the matter over the summer that he felt as though he had. He'd known something was wrong since before his fourth year at the school, though he hadn't been sure what it was, at first.

* * *

" _We have to go home, Draco_ _. Please don't argue and don't ask questions."_

 _Draco let out a frustrated sigh, trying hard to resist the urge to pull his hand out of his mother's grasp as she led him through the magically-expanded tent they'd been invited to share with Minister Fudge's family for the duration of the Quidditch World Cup. Draco glanced at the lavish golden carpets and plush, white velvet couches and mentally cursed whatever had deigned to cut his vacation short. Yes, his home was still more extravagant than Fudge's tent, but he'd been immensely proud to be invited along to share in the rewards the Minister had decided to bestow upon Lucius for his consistent financial support._

 _"Now?" Draco pressed. "But the World Cup isn't even—"_

 _"Please." Narcissa turned on her heel to face Draco, her blue eyes wide and ringed with dark circles. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."_

 _"But what about Father?"_

 _Narcissa frowned, a flicker of pain passing over her face, which seemed considerably paler and more drawn than usual._

 _"He'll meet us at home," she muttered, turning away and beginning to pull Draco along once more._

* * *

When the Dark Mark had appeared on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ after being emblazoned in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup _,_ Draco had demanded an explanation.

* * *

" _Draco… you have to understand." Lucius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He drew in a long breath and let it out again, and Draco couldn't help but notice that his father's shoulders were slumped and his white-blond hair somewhat disheveled. Draco wondered whether his father had slept at all after returning home. "I never thought this would become a problem again. I thought he was finished—dead."_

 _"And he's… not?"_

 _"The fact that this has returned—" Lucius glanced down to the black image etched into his forearm, and Draco's stomach lurched. "—suggests that he's alive. Everyone whose Mark returned panicked, and things got out of hand. If I'd known there was even a possibility that the Mark would come back, I would've told you everything sooner."_

 _"What does he want from you?" Draco asked tentatively, uncertain that he truly wanted the answer._

 _"When one agrees to serve the Dark Lord, it's a lifetime commitment."_

* * *

Draco had hoped that commitment would never be called upon; perhaps something else had led the Dark Mark to reappear and his father's master had not been resurrected. When the Triwizard Tournament had ended with Cedric Diggory's death, however, Draco hadn't been able to deny that the Dark Lord had returned. Potter had made certain to tell the world, and even if he hadn't, Lucius had been summoned to the graveyard and witnessed the man's return himself.

"Do you know what he's planning?" Draco asked now, watching his father, who had reached out to pour another glass of whatever he'd been drinking.

"It isn't worth worrying yourself over." Lucius shook his head.

"That's not an answer, Father."

"I'll tell you when you need to know," said Lucius. He took a long drink from the glass and then set it on the desk, pushing himself to his feet. "For now, just try not to think about it, all right?"

Draco sighed quietly and nodded, wishing his father understood that such a request was much easier made than fulfilled.

"We'd best be off."

Draco turned toward the voice of his mother, who had returned and stood just outside the study in the corridor, a mass of material draped over her arm and dwarfing her thin frame. She adjusted the bundle of cloth she carried and pulled free a black traveling cloak Draco recognized as his own. He took it with a muttered thanks and fastened it around his neck. He then stepped aside as his father reached them, and he glanced around the study, committing it more firmly to memory as he waited for his parents to put on their cloaks. He glanced over the leather-bound books lining the shelves—the same ones he'd been persuading his father to let him borrow since he'd been a small child—and the nearly-invisible spot on the corner of the rug partially-concealed by an armchair where he'd once spilled a glass of pumpkin juice and failed to remove it completely with magic. He looked to the north wall and the portrait that had been commissioned long before his birth of Malfoy Manor and its grounds, and he watched as tiny renditions of white peacocks scuttled about among the foliage.

Draco wasn't particularly excited about leaving his home behind for the uncertainty of another year filled with classes and people he didn't care to see, but he told himself he would make this year better than the last. After all, he was going to be a Prefect, just like both of his parents, and he was immensely proud to have been chosen for the position, even if he was somewhat anxious that he wouldn't impress them with his efforts.

 _Relax,_ he ordered himself. _It's going to be fine, so just relax._

"Did you hear me?"

Draco blinked, turning to face his parents, who both now stood in the corridor beyond the study, watching him closely.

"No, Father."

"I asked if you're ready to leave," said Lucius, glancing down the hallway toward the foyer, where Draco had left his school trunk.

"Yes," said Draco, nodding and squaring his shoulders. _Ready as I'll ever be._


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: Thanks so much for the wonderful reaction to the first chapter! We greatly appreciate it! x**

* * *

Chapter Two

 _This isn't real. Not at all. I'm going to wake up, now. I'll wake up and this will all have been just a terribly messed-up dream._

No matter how many times Hermione thought the words, she couldn't make herself believe them or forget what she'd learned.

 _"We couldn't keep this from you forever,"_ her mother had said.

 _Well,_ Hermione thought now, _perhaps you should have._

She did her best to listen to what her duties as a Prefect would entail as she sat beside Ron in the carriage they'd been instructed to report to aboard the Hogwarts Express. She was still beyond thrilled about the opportunity to prove her leadership skill, and she tried hard to remind herself of this in order to tear her focus away from what her parents had finally gotten around to telling her just a few weeks before her sixteenth birthday.

 _Adopted._

The world circled through her mind, taunting her, and she fought to push it away, to forget. _It doesn't change anything_ , she told herself. _Or it doesn't have to. You're still the same person. They still raised you. It doesn't matter._

She sighed quietly and looked out the window at the passing scenery, wishing she cared more about it at the moment and could relocate her enthusiasm for this term at Hogwarts.

She wasn't completely certain how long she'd lost her focus on the conversation before she heard another sigh from a few seats down, this one much louder than her own. It wasn't until someone spoke from nearby that she realized who had made the sound.

"What are you looking at, Weasel?" snarled the voice of Draco Malfoy. "Why don't you drool on your filthy girlfriend instead of staring at me?"

Hermione felt Ron shift beside her, and she blinked back to the present, turning her head toward him in time to see him pull out his wand. "I'll show you," he muttered.

Draco smirked. "Haven't you learned by now, Weasley? If you don't want to eat slugs or float upside down by only your trouser leg, it's best not to tempt me."

Ron scowled and returned his wand to his robes, slumping down in his seat. Draco snickered, and Hermione glared at him.

"It's all right, Ron," she said flatly. "He wouldn't dare do anything here. He's only just gotten his badge, and he won't risk losing it before we even get to school." She looked to Ron's face and watched him nod, and then she cast another cold glance at Draco, far from in the mood for his antagonizing.

"Not like anyone would believe the two of you over him, if you abused your power so quickly and decided to tell them," said Pansy Parkinson from Draco's other side, rolling her eyes.

Draco scowled at Hermione. "If there was any other Headmaster in charge, you'd never have been given that badge, Granger." He looked to Pansy and nodded. "They wouldn't dare, if they knew what was good for them," he said in a lazy drawl.

Ron sent another scowl Draco's way and returned his attention to the front of the carriage.

"I'd say I earned this badge quite a bit more legitimately than you did," Hermione snapped at Draco. "Dumbledore couldn't have picked me because of _my_ parents' example, at least."

Hermione's cheeks burned, and she immediately regretted losing her temper, particularly when she realized she had no idea what her biological parents would've been like, if they'd gone to Hogwarts. She looked straight ahead and tried hard to listen when the Prefect responsibilities were divided, and when she learned she had first patrol of the train along with Draco, she huffed quietly and stood.

 _Of course. This is going to be the year that I can't even begin to catch a break._

"I hope this doesn't last long," she muttered to Ron. She squeezed his shoulder and made her way to the door of the compartment and out into the corridor beyond. She held still for a moment and worked to gather her thoughts and her composure.

* * *

" _You're still our daughter," her mother said, wiping away the tears Hermione hadn't quite managed to keep from sliding down her cheeks. "You always will be, and we will always be so, so proud of you. We just didn't feel right keeping this from you any longer. It doesn't change anything between us."_

* * *

Hermione returned to the present when Draco emerged from the Prefects' carriage, and she folded her arms over her chest. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making him think he'd gotten to her by firing an insult at him first, and so she straightened her badge and started forward.

"Looks like the first-years have managed to find seats," she said absently as she realized how empty the area appeared to be.

"Well, chat much is clear," said Draco.

Hermione let out an irritated breath. "You're incapable of not being difficult," she muttered, starting down the corridor more quickly. She paused to let a sixth-year girl pass and bit back a sigh at the sight of the silver bird imprinted on the girl's neck.

 _Look, something else I'm not part of,_ Hermione thought bitterly. _If I knew who my soulmate was, I'd at least know who to reach out to, right now._

Draco sucked in a sharp breath from behind her, and Hermione's eyes widened when she realized how close he'd come to her before stopping. She supposed she should've given him more warning, but she'd been too distracted to do so.

"I'm not the only one who's difficult," Draco spat. "You might try looking in a mirror every once in a while."

Hermione took a few steps forward, determined to put a few paces between them. "I don't go looking for comments about my blood, thank you. And neither does Ron. All he did was look at you, you know. It's not a crime, and it doesn't warrant an insult for me, either."

"You know what, Granger? I don't have to listen to you defend your boyfriend. You take that half of the train and I'll take this half. You stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours."

Draco turned on his heels and made his way back down the corridor in the direction from which they'd come.

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "Fine," she said shortly. She continued along the train, mentally kicking herself and wishing she knew what to do to make things less hostile between Draco and her friends. She knew this was going to be a ridiculously long year.

* * *

When the train arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione attempted to convince herself to stop worrying about this term and focus on the positives: she was here and she as safe, along with her friends. After what Harry had witnessed at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, she knew that was a blessing and not to be taken for granted. Cedric's death still hung heavy in the air around the student tables, and the only thing about the school environment that sickened her more than the mutters of people casting doubt on Harry's version of events was the appearance of Professor Dolores Umbridge, who was clearly going to make this year a difficult one.

When the feast had ended, Hermione excused herself from her friends, telling them she would meet up with them soon back in the Gryffindor Common Room, and approached Professor McGonagall at the staff table. If she trusted anyone enough to ask for advice about the problems at hand, it was her Head of House.

"Excuse me, Professor. I wondered if I might have a word with you in private, if you have a moment?"

Professor McGonagall looked toward Hermione. "Yes, Miss Granger, I believe I do. Wonderful chat, Rolanda," she added to Madam Hooch, who sat beside her. Professor McGonagall wiped the edges of her mouth with her napkin and stood. "This way, my dear."

Hermione followed her around the back of the room, away from the crowds, and out into the corridor, letting out a quiet sigh of relief when they'd escaped from the masses.

"If you're here with me, dear, does that mean Mr. Weasley is guiding the group of first-years all on his own?"

Hermione fidgeted with her sleeve. "He is. I apologize for that, and I intend to help him in every way I can and make up for it. I just didn't feel I'd be the best company for the first-years, right now. Have you ever been told something you wish you hadn't? Something you wish you could forget so that life would go back to making sense?"

Professor McGonagall's brows furrowed. "Miss Granger, you've known me for five years, now, and you very well know that I'm a straightforward woman and prefer my students to behave in such a way, as well. Your ability to say what you mean has always been a quality that I've admired. Now, what is it that's going on?"

Hermione lowered her eyes to the floor. "I know. It's just hard to talk about." She ran a hand through her hair and took in a long breath. "Professor, my parents have told me that I'm not their biological child. I love them so much, and I know I'm still their daughter, but it hurts more than I know how to handle. I've spent so long defending them to other students and making myself all right with who I am, and now… I'm not entirely sure who that is." Her eyes stung with ears, but she denied them and refused to let them fall.

"I'm sorry, my dear," said Professor McGonagall quietly. "That is quite the load to land right before your first term. Did your parents give you any information at all?"

Hermione shook her head. She was relieved that her professor wasn't judging her for handling this poorly and that she seemed to understand. "Thank you," she said. "I wish they had, but from the way they were speaking, it sounded like it was either a closed adoption and they had no idea or they were trying very hard not to remember. They just… stopped talking about it."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "It sounds like you've got some digging to do, Miss Granger. Thankfully, one of your skills is allowing your curiosity to help you find what you're looking for."

"I hope that it's enough." Hermione paused. She supposed her professor was right; for the first four years of her schooling, she'd relied on herself to find out everything she needed to know, and now wasn't the time to give up on her ability to locate whatever information was available. "Thank you for letting me speak with you about all this. I appreciate it very much." She glanced down the corridor. "I suppose I should get back and see if Ron needs help."

"Good luck, Miss Granger. And it will be. Use that brilliant mind of yours to find the answers you need."

"Thank you, Professor."

The two parted, and Hermione made her way up through the school's levels to Gryffindor Tower. When she arrived, she sought out Ron and Harry, and when she spotted them on a couch, she made her way over to stand beside it.

"Sorry about that," she said quietly, hoping to keep the other students clustered throughout the room from hearing.

"It's about bloody time, Hermione," said Ron. "Had a blasted first-year practically beat me to death. He was the biggest arse I've ever dealt with—other than Malfoy."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I'm sorry. Are you all right? Why in the world did he do that?" _Merlin, what is happening to this school?_ she thought bitterly. First-years weren't supposed to cause such trouble.

Ron threw his hands into the air. "Who bloody well knows? They're damn first-years with no brains and very large egos."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know that was us four years ago, yes?" She sat down beside them. "Anyway, other than that one, how was it?"

Ron huffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "It was fine. You should've been there, though, Hermione. I needed you."

"I've already said I'm sorry, Ronald. I had to deal with something important." Frowning, Hermione looked to Harry. "What about you? I know it must've been… different." She hated that Harry hadn't been made a Prefect along with them; she knew it had to be odd for him. She tried not to pay attention when Ron sighed and stood from the couch to make his way across the room.

"Fine," said Harry, not looking up from his copy of the evening's _Prophet._

Hermione glanced from him to Ron—who had made his way over to the fireplace—and back. "Fine, then," she said flatly. "Goodnight to both of you."

She couldn't handle their indifference, at the moment—not when she was dealing with something so difficult that neither of them appeared to care enough to ask her about.

 _They can't even tell when something isn't right,_ she thought, shaking her head.

She was fully ready to sleep, after such a ridiculously long day. She stood and made her way up the stairs without another word.


	3. Dear Readers

Dear Readers,

Thank you so very much for your support. We appreciate it greatly. We wanted to inform you that _justforpractice_ has decided to discontinue writing on FFN. However, I will continue to update stories that are currently on our joint page (as well as _An Unlikely Tale_ ) on my individual page from here forward and hope to do them justice.

Thank you again, and I hope you continue to read these stories and the others.

 _theslytherinrose_


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